


Mirrors

by OriginofChaos



Series: Songfics [5]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:58:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginofChaos/pseuds/OriginofChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrors can hide a lot of things, and just a few can see them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting each other

**Author's Note:**

> Right, I wanted to post this when it would be finished but it gives me the perfect opportunity to procrastinate, so here it is. Please comment if you like the story, I really need to know if I should continue this. And I'm sorry, but the first chapter is huge, by my standards, at least.  
> You can see disclaimers below.

“Hey, hey, stop! Why are you covering me? Oi! Are you really going to sell me, you bastard?”

Anthony was knocking at the glass, trying to draw attention to himself, although he knew that there was no point in it.

“Seriously, don't! The thing that you turned all your fortune into liquor doesn't give you the right to sell me! Oi!!! I like being here! I don't like changes!!!”

But the man didn't hear him. Anthony saw the movement behind the thick black curtain the glass was covered with and realised that these were the last moments spent in the house where he lived for more than a century. He sat on the floor and sighed. He was about to see a new mirror keeper soon. He wasn't excited, though. Nothing would really change for him, and he knew that, but it was a bit uncomfortable for him to get used to the new interior. Moreover, he was sure that he was going to miss his previous mirror keeper. Although he was alcoholic, he liked this man for many reasons. Suddenly the movement ended. Anthony realised that this was it, the point of no return. He was in the new house.

The first thing Anthony saw when the curtain fell was a big light room. There almost weren't any furniture except a big bed in front of the mirror, a desk near the window and a closet against it. Anthony wondered what kind of person could live in the room like that. It was totally different from the one he used to live before. He tried to remember that room – it was dark, the walls were painted red; there were lots of textile, but the fabric was old and mostly in holes. Anthony blinked quickly, getting rid of the image in his mind and tried the bed. It was really soft; Anthony lay on it and didn't feel like getting up. He liked that feature of his world – it mimicked everything the mirror reflected, so Anthony could imagine that he lived in the room with the mirror keeper. The only thing Anthony hated was that he could never talk with the mirror keeper, they couldn't see or hear him, although Anthony did both of these things perfectly. At one point of time Anthony began to speak with mirror keepers, even though they wouldn't answer; he laughed at them, he listened to them and gave them advice. There was no point in it, but at least Anthony didn't feel as lonely as he actually was.

Anthony got up, went to the closet and opened it. There wasn't anything but the void – the contents weren't reflected yet. He laughed at himself, when he heard steps approaching to the room. He closed the closet and waited for his new mirror keeper. And finally he entered the room. It was a young man with messy wet hair and a beard. A towel was wrapped around his hips – that meant that he just went out of the shower. His body wasn't athletic much but thin and covered with pale skin. The man went straight to the mirror, examined it quickly and nodded in approval.

“Oh, sweet,” Anthony said to himself. “It's a guy again. A hairy one... He looks like yeti.”

He chuckled. The mirror keeper turned on the music and started to comb his hair. Anthony cringed when he heard the music, he'd never heard this kind of it. But it seemed that the mirror keeper liked it, as he started to sing along.

“Why is he spending so much time on combing? Has he got a date or something? With that beard? He's going to scare every girl he will meet! Oi, lad,” he said louder with a smirk. “You'd better shave your beard off!”

“Shut up, I like my beard, okay?!”

Anthony froze. He couldn't believe that the mirror keeper answered him. There was no way he could hear Anthony. He stared at the mirror keeper, who was looking around in shock.

“Who was that?” the man asked and turned the music off.

Anthony kept silent. He came closer to the closet, still trying to believe in everything that was happening.

“Is anyone here?” the man asked again.

“How can you hear me?” Anthony asked weakly, hoping that it was only coincidence, and made the mirror keeper to look around again.

“Who is this?!”

Anthony went to the bed and stared at the mirror keeper. He spotted Anthony and turned over, expecting him to be near his bed, but he saw no one.

“What are you?” he asked terrified.

“You shouldn't hear and see me... I... I'm in the mirror. I live in it.”

“Stop messing around, dude, it's not funny,” the keeper's voice started shaking. “I'll call the police if you don't come out!”

“I can't, I trapped in the mirror!”

“No. No, it can't be true. That's it, you're finally going mad, just as you predicted,” the man mumbled.

“But it is. You're the first one in centuries who can hear and see me,” Anthony sighed.

“Cent- No way, I'm dreaming, I'm just dreaming, that's it...”

The mirror keeper opened the closet, grabbed some clothes and quickly left the room. Apparently he didn't want to dress up in front of his hallucination, Anthony thought. He still couldn't believe that someone could actually communicate with him. Although Anthony missed actually talking with someone, he was used to the silence in return. He didn't know what to think. It was unusual for him, not to say impossible. He sat on the bed and hid his face in his hands, sighing.

The mirror keeper returned, already completely dressed. He wore a red T-shirt with a blue face on it and plain light-blue jeans. The T-shirt didn't seem to be new or clean, it was a bit rumpled and the print was shabby. Still, he looked pretty much attractive.

“Are you still there?” he asked quietly.

“I've always been here,” Anthony sighed. “I am real, I don't know how can I prove it, but I'm real!”

“I don't believe you, and I don't believe _in_ you, but still,” the mirror keeper took a chair, brought it closer to the mirror and sat in front of it. “Tell me, what the hell you're doing in my new mirror.”

“I wonder if you realise how old this mirror is,” Anthony chuckled. “How do you think?”

“I actually thought it's not that old...” the mirror keeper pondered.

“Four centuries,” Anthony answered.

“What?” the man yelled, surprised. “No way, I bought it for, like, ten bucks or so! It's much cheaper than Ikea's ones!”

“Which ones?”

“Never mind,” the keeper waved his hand. “I mean, it's freaking antique! There's no way it could be that cheap!”

“It can when the owner is drunkard,” Anthony shrugged. “The mirror keeper who owned it before you was the one. He had colossal fortune, but he decided that to be drunk is better than to be rich.”

“Listen... I remember that guy! I thought that he looked so terrible that he must've drink for years and years!” the mirror keeper exclaimed.

“And he actually did,” Anthony nodded.

“So you are real...” the man whispered.

“Guess so,” Anthony giggled. “Well, maybe we should get to know each other then?”

“Well, maybe,” the mirror keeper smiled weakly. “So... My name's Ian.”

“Ian?” Anthony repeated.

“Yes, Ian,” the keeper nodded.

“Ian...” Anthony repeated his name again, slowly, as if he was tasting it. “I-an. I... an...”

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just like your name. It's interesting. Ian. Hey, Ian! Here comes Ian. Oi, Ian, how's going?”

“Okay, I'm glad you like it, but stop, it's annoying a little,” Ian mumbled. “So what's your name?”

“Antoine,” Anthony answered and laughed when he saw Ian's eyes widening. “Not really, actually, my parents preferred calling me like that. I'm Anthony.”

“Are your parents French?”

“No, they weren't. As far as I remember, my mother had French blood, but she was mostly English. And my father was half-Spanish... Anyway, enough about me, tell me about yourself!” Anthony said cheerfully.

“Well, uh...” Ian scratched the back of his neck. “I'm Ian, I'm 27 years old... What else... I work as a clerk and I write some articles for our local newspaper in my spare time... My life is not so interesting, to be honest. Boring to death, I'd say.”

“Really? Why?” Anthony questioned, surprised. “The life just can't be boring when you have everything!”

“But it is,” Ian shrugged. “Every day is exactly the same. I'm tired of it.”

“Well, okay...” Anthony mumbled. “Maybe you can tell me when and where have you born, what is your title... Just something.”

“Uh... Well... I was born here, on November, 30th... And... Does 'Employee of the month' counts as a title?” Ian asked unsure.  
“Don't think so,” Anthony pondered.

“Then, I've no title,” Ian shrugged. “I really don't know what can I tell you about myself. Maybe you will?”

“About you? I wish I could,” Anthony giggled. “About me... Well... I was born almost two months before the Gunpowder plot-”

“No way! That means you're...” Ian started counting in his mind but gave up soon. “You should be old as fuck!”

“I guess I am,” Anthony smiled. “So, I was born in rich family. My father was a very respectable man. I had three sisters and two brothers...” Anthony sighed and his face darkened.

“What happened?” Ian asked, concerned.

“I remembered them... You know, when I was twenty-five, I bought this mirror and on the very next day I found myself in it. I could swear that the woman who sold me the mirror whispered something when I was leaving... Something about my father. He had lots of enemies, you know. I guess, she wanted to hurt him somehow. Well, the next morning I understood how she wanted to do that. No matter how loud I screamed, no one could hear me, no matter how hard I knocked the glass, no one could spot me; but I could hear and see everything. Everyone thought that I left the house, except my mother. She knew that something was wrong, but she didn't know what exactly. I saw my mother crying above my bed. I saw her dying. I saw or heard about every death of my relatives and friends. This is really unbearable.”

“I'm sorry,” Ian managed to whisper.

“Don't. This is how the life goes, I guess,” Anthony sighed heavily. “So, after my father died, one of my sisters took the mirror with her into her new house. A few years later someone sneaked into the house and killed her and her husband. Luckily, their daughter stayed alive, because she wasn't at home that night, but I don't know about her fate. The house was robbed, and I was taken too, but on the halfway they left me on the street. The mirror was too big for them to carry... Oh, I'm sorry. The story of my being is not so interesting, I could go with a short description...”

“Go on, please,” Ian asked. “I'd like to know the whole story.”

“Okay. So, soon after I was left on the street, I was found by some homeless girl. She was very young, I think, she was like nine years old. I remember her very well, because this was the first time I saw someone very poor. I'm really ashamed of admitting it, but as a man who grew up in a rich house, I thought that these people are kind of... you know... fairytale like mermaids or something. And then I met her. She lived all alone in a ruined house. She hadn't got any warm clothes, she hadn't got any wood to make a fire. She hadn't even got any shoes! It was November, and my heart literally broke when I saw her walking down the street barefoot. She took me to her place and said to herself that she was going to sell me to get some money on food. I wanted to help her desperately, but all I could do was just watch and hope that she could sell me. At least, back then the frame was very rich-looking. And when she managed to sell me a few days later, I felt relief for her... Oh good Lord, what happened?” Anthony interrupted himself when he saw Ian trying to hide his face.

“I just,” Ian tried to answer, his voice cracked. “I just got something in the eye, it happens.”

“Don't worry. It happened in the late 17th century. She sold me for a lot of money, mostly because of the frame, so I think she had a good time... I don't really know.”

“I hope so,” Ian sighed. “So, what was next?”

“Next?” Anthony went silent for a couple of seconds. “Well, my next station was the house of newly-weds. The man bought me as a gift for his wife, and she appreciated it, although he spent a fortune by their standards on me. I soon found out that the gift wasn't worth it, because that wench was cheating on him. Right in front of me. I've seen lots of things I wish I can forget... Anyway, the husband found it out too after a couple of years-”

“Couple of years?” Ian asked again. “The dude must've been blind!”

“Huh, guess so,” Anthony laughed. “But when he got them, he did nothing to the sweet couple. At first. Soon after that the couple met again, predictably. And then, when the things got heated up, the husband locked all the ways out and set the house on fire!”

“No way!”

“Yeah, so, he burnt them alive. Great revenge, I suppose...” Anthony sighed. “But the most terrible thing was that he burnt me up with them! Thanks to heavens, I can't feel the temperature there. And my mirror lost the frame. Surprisingly, the glass didn't break at all, so I should consider myself either lucky or not. I guess, the broken glass could've been the way out... Anyway, I spent in the ruins for almost a century, I guess. I don't really know, to be honest, the time crawled so slow, you know. And while being there, I saw too many things. I saw homeless people coming and leaving, I saw murders and suicides... That was horrible.”

“I can't even imagine that...” Ian horrified.

“Don't. You better don't. Anyway,” Anthony jumped quickly to another memory. “One family, of which the guy who sold me to you was a member, decided to build the house on the place where my ruins were located. When the future landlord was observing the ruins, his little son was playing around and he spotted me. Luckily, the glass wasn't broken or anything, so they decided to frame me and put me in their house. For some reason they saw a good sign in my presence there. So I was welcomed in their house, of course, as much as the mirror could be welcomed,” he chuckled. “They even made me somewhat of family treasure or something, they even took me here to America. So I lived there somewhat happily until the whole family except the youngest Sean died tragically. That was the beginning of the end. Sean was twenty-something back then, and at first he tried to carry on, but when he was thirty, he started drinking. He just shut himself at home and drank. The family was really rich, but he manage to turn all the fortune into liquor, even me. So... Here I am.”

Anthony shrugged and sighed. He noticed Ian staring at him in shock and felt a bit uncomfortable.

“What?”

“You...” Ian whispered. “I mean, you saw so much... And you couldn't even talk with anyone actually... But you look perfectly sane, it's... Unbelievable...”

“Not really, I'm just used to it,” Anthony smiled. “And I finally found someone I can actually talk with, I think I've never been happier.”

“Hope so,” Ian grinned. “But your story is... I don't know, it's unbelievable.”

“Still, you have to believe me.”

“I guess so. Oh, wait, you told me that you was born in England when the Gunpowder plot happened, right?” Ian questioned.

“Pretty much, yeah. What?”

“So... I wonder, why don't you talk in Shakespearean English?”

“Well... I guess thither is nay point in t,” Anthony smiled, “but if 't be true thee like t, I can wend on with t.”

“What?”

“That's what I'm talking about,” Anthony laughed. “I live long enough to adapt to the new language norms. I even got a slight American accent. Don't think of me being so conservative, I see no reason in speaking in Shakespearean or being dressed up according to the fashion of that time.”

And only then Ian noticed the way Anthony was dressed. He looked like he was from the cover of the fashion magazine of 1990s. He wore deep blue wide-legged jeans, his denim unbuttoned jacket was matching colours with them. Beneath the jacket was white T-shirt which was tucked into jeans. Ian couldn't deny that Anthony was looking good in it, but there was something really funny for him, but he couldn't realise, what exactly. He couldn't hold a giggle which escaped his lips. Anthony looked at him suspiciously.

“What?”

That was enough for Ian to burst out laughing. He guffawed loudly, gasping and panting, and every time he thought that he calmed down, he looked at Anthony's confused face and his laugh was becoming even harder than it was before.

“What on Earth are you laughing at?” Anthony asked, a bit annoyed.

“Do you-” Ian couldn't speak properly. “Why don't- ha-ha-ha! I mean- fu- I... I can't!..”

“Seriously, what's wrong with you? Did I say something funny or what?” Anthony started to get angry.

“I-” Ian inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times to steady himself. “Why don't you wear a Stetson?” he howled his excitement, making Anthony frustrated. “You look like a freaking cowboy!”

“Better now?”

Ian glanced at Anthony and calmed almost immediately. His look was completely different; in fact, Anthony's outfit was a precise copy of Ian's outfit. Ian's eyes widened in surprise.

“How did you do that?!” he asked, astonished.

“Don't forget, I'm the guy from the mirror, I can do anything,” Anthony smiled. “Well, not anything, but, at least, I can change my outfit and haircut if I want so.”

“Cool!” Ian's face brightened. “May I try it, please?”

“Uh... Okay...” Anthony agreed uneasy.

“Yay!” Ian grabbed his laptop from the desk and turned it on.

“What is that?” Anthony asked, observing the laptop in Ian's hands.

“What? This?” Ian looked on the direction of Anthony's glance. “This is a laptop.”

“Yes, I can see that this thing is on top of your laps, but what is that?”

“Um...” Ian pondered how he could explain that. “It's a computer, but more compact...”

“What? No way!” Anthony shouted, surprised. “These things are, like, a hundred times bigger!”

“Have you ever seen a computer?” Ian asked. Anthony shook his head.

“I saw some ads in newspapers, it was the beginning of the 90s. But my mirror keeper started drinking before he could buy one.”

“I see...” Ian thought for a moment. “So I've got lots of things to show you! You'll like it for sure. But first, please, can I try out your ability?”

“Okay, go ahead...”

Ian typed something quickly and showed the display to Anthony. He looked at it, amazed, but a couple of seconds later he realised what exactly Ian was showing.

“Seriously?” he sighed frustrated.

“Please?” Ian made puppy-eyes to persuade his new friend.

“Fine,” Anthony groaned. A moment later there was a clown instead of Anthony in the mirror. “I thought you were more mature.”

“Nope,” Ian moaned joyfully, laughing again. “All right, all right, I'll find something different.”

In a couple of seconds the clown disappeared, and Anthony with emo hair showed up.

“I really can't get why are you doing this to me,” he sighed and noticed Ian staring at him, amazed. “What's wrong again?”

“Brendon Urie in my mirror...” Ian whispered. “It's Brendon fucking Urie in my mirror! Listen, can you change your outfit to this?”

Ian showed a screen shot from 'I Write Sins Not Tragedies' music video, and giggled with excitement when he saw Anthony.

“Awesome!!!”

“I really can't understand now whether I like you or hate you,” Anthony muttered.

“Come on, it's just for fun!” Ian grinned, but the smile vanished as his phone rang. “Oh, I'm sorry...”

He picked the phone and left the room. A few minutes later he returned, his face looked sad and exhausted.

“I totally forgot my report is due tomorrow,” he mumbled guiltily. “And how didn't I noticed it's almost night already? Damn it...”

“That's okay, you should work now, I won't bother you,” Anthony nodded understandingly.

“Are you sure you won't be bored?” Ian asked, concerned.

“Seriously? I spent in this mirror four centuries with no one to talk to.”

“Sure? I can bring a book to read, if you want.”

“I won't be able to read it,” Anthony shrugged. “Unless the content is reflected, I'll see only blank pages.”

“I can turn pages for you.”

“Seriously?” Anthony's eyes brightened. “It would be so nice of you! But wouldn't it distract you from your work?”

“No, don't think so. Okay, prepare yourself, I'll be moving you to my desk,” Ian got up and stretched. When he met Anthony's confused look, he smiled. “You don't think I'll be cruising to the mirror and back every time you'll need the page to be turned, do you?”

“True. All right, let's do that.”

Ian rolled a mirror to the desk which turned out to be a difficult task. The wheels weren't oiled enough, so it seemed that it would be easier to carry it, but the mirror was too heavy for Ian, so every time he tried it, it felt like he was carrying something with the density of a black hole. Finally, after a couple of minutes and a thousand curses, he managed to do that. He stood, leaning on the mirror and the desk, and tried to catch his breath.

“I swear I'll oil these freaking wheels... Tomorrow,” he panted. “God dammit... That was hard...”

“I'm sorry,” Anthony muttered apologetically.

“Don't, it was my idea anyway. Oh, a book! Wait a minute.”

Ian disappeared and a little bit later brought a hard cover. He put a chair to the desk, beside his spot, and asked Anthony to sit down.

“What is that book about?” Anthony asked, sitting down.

“It's about a young magician, Harry Potter. I think you'll like it. Everyone does.”

“Okay, let's see...”

The rest of the evening there was a silence in the room. Sometimes Anthony broke it by quiet knocking, signalling that it was time to turn the page. Occasionally Ian was glancing at Anthony to check whether he liked that book or not. Apparently, Anthony liked it; Ian was amused watching him being engrossed in the reading. His eyes followed the lines quickly, even though they were reflected, but Ian thought that there was no wonder in it since Anthony had plenty of time to get used to it.

By the time Ian finally finished his work, the clock on the laptop's toolbar showed that it was 2am. He shut it off and closed the book, using a pencil as a bookmark.

“Come on!” he heard Anthony's frustrated moan instantly. “I want to know what the Sorting Hat is going to say to Harry!”

“Tomorrow,” Ian muttered, exhausted. “I must get up in 6 hours, I need to get some sleep.”

“Oh, uh, sorry...” Anthony scratched his neck uncomfortably. “Good night then?”

“Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- English is not my native language, so I'm really sorry for any mistakes I've done.  
> \- Yes, I presented Anthony as a British person. It would be more logical to change the roles, but I wanted to do like that. Sorry.  
> \- *more disclaimers to be added*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I recently got 500 Kudos in total, I decided to celebrate it by uploading a new chapter. Hope you'll enjoy it. And thank you so much for your support, I love you all!

“I'm so glad you're back, mate!” Anthony exclaimed when he saw Ian walking tiredly in the room. “I had no idea that being all alone in the empty room could be that boring. I've even reread that book you gave me yesterday.”  
“Yeah, uh, sorry, I should have thought about it,” Ian sighed.  
“That's okay, but I guess I'm used to the company I can talk with, whether they hear me or not,” Anthony smiled. “Hard day on work?”  
“Yes. My boss is a bitch,” Ian growled, took a chair and fell on it in front of the mirror. “I'm so sick and tired of it. I'm looking forward to my vacation. Damn. Sorry.”  
“It's okay, have a rest,” Anthony grinned and sat on the chair Ian put the day before special for him. “You need it.”  
“Thanks, dude,” Ian smiled back. “All right, I'm starving. I'll go eat something, would you mind?”  
“Of course, not. But...” Anthony looked away shyly. “Can you give me something I could enjoy myself with?”  
“Yeah, right. I think, YouTube play list would be the right thing. Or did you mean something like... uh... adult stuff?”  
“Adult stuff?” Anthony repeated. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean... Never mind,” Ian opened YouTube tab and placed the laptop on the chair. “Here, it's my music play list, have fun. I'll be back soon, I think.”  
When Ian returned, Anthony was staring at the screen, almost not blinking. His face expressed thousands of emotions, Ian couldn't understand, how exactly he felt. He didn't even noticed how Ian came in.  
“So, how's it going?” Ian asked, making Anthony jump.  
“Well, good, I guess... I saw that man that you made me to dress up like him yesterday. He sang something like,” Anthony's clothes changed to the outfit he was talking about and started to sing out of tune, “I chime in, 'Haven't you people ever heard of something about the door' or something like that...”  
“That wasn't correct, but that was kind of amazing,” Ian breathed out, trying not to laugh. “You just made my day!”  
“Glad to hear it,” Anthony smiled and changed his outfit back to jeans and T-shirt. “Anyway, I wanted to ask... Is everything in that play list considers as music?”  
“Yeah...” Ian replied uneasy. “Why?”  
“Well, there were some compositions... For example, I don't remember how they were called, something starting with 'S', it was just screams and noises. It was awful.”  
“I think I know what you're talking about,” Ian mumbled. “It's the dubsteb. And it's somewhat popular genre.”  
“What's wrong with that generation...” Anthony sighed heavily. “I happened to hear Daft Punk some time ago, it wasn't the best thing on Earth, pretty much opposite, but it was much better than that.”  
“What do you like then?”  
“Well... I prefer jazz, to be honest. It's really nice and smooth. Unlike this dubstep thing,” Anthony cringed.  
“Oh... I thought you were going to say something like Beethoven or, I don't know, Chopin...” Ian mumbled, surprised.  
“Actually, I don't like Chopin, I prefer Bach's music.”  
“I'll keep it in mind,” Ian smiled. “But I meant that I thought you'd name some classic composer or something, you know.”  
“Bach's music is not classics,” Anthony retorted. “Classics is the lute music. And I pretty like it too.”  
“I guess you've forgotten, what year is it now, am I right?” Ian chuckled, making Anthony blush. “Bach is classics for me.”  
“Yeah, kind of... Sorry.”  
“Never mind, it happens. But I'll create a new play list for you if you want to. So, do you wanna read more of this book?” Ian picked up 'Harry Potter' off the table.  
“Sure thing!”  
  
“Hey, Anthony...” Ian whispered. “Are you sleeping?”  
“I never sleep,” Anthony whispered back. “Why aren't you sleeping?”  
“I can't, too many thoughts,” Ian sighed.  
“Do you need to go to the work tomorrow?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Are you getting enough sleep?” Anthony's voice sounded horrified.  
“No,” Ian admitted. “Never mind, I'm kind of used to it. I sleep a lot on Sundays as a rule.”  
“Don't think this is good, but whatever, this is your life, after all,” Anthony shrugged. “And why are we whispering? Is there someone else in the house?”  
“No,” Ian answered in his normal voice, but not as loud as at the daytime. “I'm alone, but there are neighbours I wouldn't want to bother.”  
“I see... But why don't you have anyone? You're 27, all my friends were married by that time!” Anthony continued his interrogation.  
“Dude, we're from _way_ too different generations, don't compare me with them,” Ian mumbled, annoyed. “And maybe I'm seeing someone, you know me for two days, you can't know for sure.”  
“No, you're not,” Anthony retorted. “If it was so, I'd never see you awake as much as I do now.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean, I'd see you only sleeping, going to sleep and getting ready for your job. But you spend all your time with me. And I've never heard anyone except your boss calling you. So, I guess-”  
“Okay, okay, you're right, I'm single, you got me,” Ian interrupted him. His voice sounded both annoyed and sad at the same time. “I broke up four days ago. Well, it was mutual, yeah.”  
“But when I saw you for the first time, you wasn't so depressed as you should have been. In fact I thought that you were preparing for your date...” Anthony muttered.  
“Listen, I try to move on.  I don't want to talk about it, I can deal with it myself.”  
“But what about your friends? Do you ever go out?”  
“Yes. Sometimes. Rarely. Why are you doing this to me?” Ian whined. “I wanted to talk to you, not to be interrogated, you know.”  
“I just want to learn you better, you're the only friend of mine I've had for centuries,” Anthony sighed and sat on his chair.  
“A friend?”  
“Uh...” Anthony blushed deep crimson. “Yeah. I consider you as my friend and I hope that one day I will be your friend too.”  
“You are already. You won't believe me, but we're pretty much in the same boat,” Ian giggled. “I have only a few friends, but they're usually too busy at their work... I can't blame them for it, but sometimes I feel... You know... Lonely.”  
“This isn't right,” Anthony shook his head sadly. “You're such a nice chap, you should have lots of friends.”  
“Well, I don't need too many friends either. And I'm not so nice as you're thinking. I think I'm too boring for everyone else, so they prefer not to notice me.”  
“You know...” Anthony stood up and went to the window. “This 'Everyone' you speak of must be really stupid. You deserve much better.”  
“You don't know me so well,” Ian smiled. “I don't deserve lots of things.”  
“Stop saying that,” Anthony shushed. “I know you enough to tell that I'm right.”  
The silence filled the room. Ian was thinking about everything Anthony said, while Anthony was staring at the window. He was looking like a ghost in the light of the full moon. The fact that he was only in the mirror's frame made him even less human-like.  
“Are you sure that you're not my imagination?” Ian asked thoughtfully.  
“Why do you keep thinking so?” Anthony asked and looked at Ian suspiciously.  
“I mean... It doesn't look like a coincidence, you know. The fact that you appeared in my life right after my girlfriend left me... I mean, we mutually broke up...” Ian corrected himself, even though it was too late, and kept on speaking to prevent Anthony's commentaries. “And that I feel so alone sometimes because my friends don't have a lot of time to spend with me... The whole situation looks like I've imagined you to fill the emptiness inside. And the fact that you're only in my mirror can only confirm my theory.”  
“I see,” Anthony nodded and pursed his lips for a brief moment. “It all makes perfect sense, but you have to believe me that I'm real. I have no idea how else I can prove it to you, though... I thought I did it yesterday...”  
“Tell me something about me,” Ian suggested. “If I imagine you, you should know me like yourself.”  
“Um... It's really difficult, to be honest,” Anthony sighed. “Well, you're Ian, 27 years old... You're a clerk... You were born in America...”  
“Some details, maybe?”  
“Well...” Anthony groaned. “Maybe you'd ask me some questions?”  
“Okay,” Ian shrugged. “What's the colour of my eyes?”  
“Grey.”  
“What is my favourite colour?”  
“Red.”  
“What was my first dog's name?”  
“Um, dunno, Rex?”  
“My favourite pokemon?”  
“What are you talking about?!”  
“My favourite band?”  
“These S-named chaps calling some strange noises as music!”  
“Okay,” Ian exhaled. “You're real. You proved it.”  
“I failed, right?” Anthony smirked.  
“Pretty much, yeah,” Ian nodded, smiling. “My favourite colour is the same as my eyes' colour, and they're blue. My first dog's name was Sparky, my favourite pokemon is Ditto, and I'll explain who this is later. And yeah, I like these 'S-named chaps', as you called them,” he drew the quotation marks in the air, giggling.  
“Now you see? I'm real,” Anthony concluded. “Everything is okay with you, don't be bothered by that. Hey, it's 3 in the morning. Go to sleep. I can sing you a lullaby if you want.”  
“I can't say 'no' to that offer,” Ian grinned, lay down and covered himself with a blanket. “I'm ready.”  
“Okay, but I'm terribly sorry for my vocal, I can't sing at all,” Anthony smiled shyly.  
“That's okay.”  
“All right...” Anthony cleared his throat, closed his eyes and began to sing with the most hypnotising voice he could sing with. “ _Klokleda partha menin klatch, haroon haroon haroon. Klokleda sheenah tierra natch, haroon haroon haroon-_ ”  
“What is that?” Ian interrupted him, making Anthony open his eyes. “What language is that?!”  
“Oh, uh..” Anthony felt very awkward, and he shrugged uneasy. “This is a Venusian lullaby, you know. From Doctor Who... Oh, I forgot, you've probably never heard about it-”  
“I've watched all the series and I've never heard it!” Ian retorted.  
“Oh, so you watched it!” Anthony grinned delightfully.  
“Of course, I did! Actually, my gi-” Ian coughed to prevent himself of saying the word he didn't want to say. “I mean, I was forced to watch it at first, but then I became a fan too. I loved the Tenth Doctor.”  
“Tenth? Um, there's only seven Doctors...” Anthony said uneasy.  
“Well, I don't know, I watched only the 2005 series, I skipped the 'old school' ones,” Ian shrugged.  
“No wonder you don't know the Third Doctor's lines,” Anthony smirked, but then he rethought Ian's words. The smirk had gone from his face, and he looked at his friend with the death stare. “You must totally show me these series, do you understand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Okay, I took these TV series because I can't think of something more British than this. You can correct me, but this is just my opinion (and it's definitely not connected somehow with my love for it). Also, Ian mentioned once that he likes it more than Sherlock (don't ask me when, I don't remember anyway). Plus, according to my plot line, Anthony is British, so even though he claims in my story that he's not so conservative, he is, as well as the family he lived with before. I hope you understand my choice and you won't criticise me too much for it. Thank you.  
> \- *more disclaimers to be added*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 64 days of procrastination, I finally upload a new chapter. If this happens again, I will... I don't know, play some 'Truth or Dare?' :D

“Oh god, not again.”

Ian entered the room, sighing annoyed. Anthony was sitting in front of Ian's laptop, weeping and sobbing.

“Seriously, I'm going to turn that plugin off, that binge watching is clearly damaging your brain,” he growled.

“Don't you even dare!” Anthony shouted. “He's just regenerated, don't you understand?! It was sadder than the moment when he lost Rose in the parallel universe! It was even sadder than the Fourth Doctor's regeneration!”

“All right, that's it. I think you should have a break,” Ian grabbed his laptop and closed it.

“Bollocks!”

“You are watching it for three days straight. You started talking like Tenth!”

“Want me to talk like Second or Fourth?” Anthony crossed his hands. “I can! These are my favourite regenerations!”

“No, I'm fine, thanks,” Ian said frustrated. “You're losing yourself. You're not who you are, and I don't even know you well!”

“Exactly! How can you know that I'm losing myself, maybe I've always been like that!”

“You started saying 'Fantastic' with the North accent and refer to anything you don't understand as 'Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff'! I don't think this is real you!”

“Listen,” Anthony said quietly but firmly, making Ian shiver. “For all my life I just wanted only one thing – to dive into something as deep as possible. I have never had such a bloody opportunity until now, but you're taking it away. So please...”

“I wouldn't say a word if I were at work while you were watching this,” Ian sighed. “I think I've never felt lonelier than I did at this weekend! You were watching it for every single day, for every single minute! And I had nothing to do! Oh, yeah, and thank you so much for not watching this at night and letting me sleep!”

“Oi, stop screaming at me! You could tell me about that!”

“I tried! And all I heard in response was 'Shh!' or 'Not now'! That's... That's at least rude!”

“Fine,” Anthony groaned. “Wanted to talk – let's talk then. You won't let me go on watching it anyway.”

“No. Now I want you to be in my shoes,” Ian grabbed the laptop and the book lying on the table and went towards the door. Anthony's eyes widened in shock and anger.

“What?! No, you can't do that to me, mate! What should I do then?!” he screamed in frustration.

“Talk to your hand,” Ian hissed and shut the door.

“That's cruel!!!” Anthony shouted, hoping that Ian could still hear him and sighed. “Bastard...”

He fell on the bed and hid his face in hands. He was already bored. There was no one to talk with, no reflected book to read, no laptop to watch. There even wasn't any clock on the wall. Anthony turned his eyes around the room, both real and reflected parts, but there wasn't anything that could draw Anthony's eye. White ceiling. White doors of closet. Almost white walls, somewhat light-blue, with greyish blue shadows on them. The table of the same colour, absolutely clear. The bed with black-and-white sheets. Used to be white carpet all over the floor. No pictures. No shelves with books or anything useless. Nothing at all.

The Great Nothingness.

“Good grief! How on Earth can he live in here?”

Anthony looked around the room once again and once more, hoping that he missed something he could entertain himself with, but nothing new turned up. He groaned and sat cross-legged, slightly swaying. He didn't look at anything, his eyes glazed and fixed on some non-existing point on the wall of the real room. Suddenly he heard Ian's muffled voice. He was talking to someone on the phone, as Anthony didn't hear the other voice responding. He even laughed while talking. Anthony knew that Ian laughed about something he didn't know, yet he couldn't help but think that Ian was laughing at him.

“What a twat,” Anthony muttered. “Maybe I want to talk with someone now too.”

_'Talk to your hand'_

Ian's words echoed in Anthony's head. He looked at his right hand, lying on his lap completely relaxed.

“And how should I talk to it?”

“ _Just try and see.”_

Anthony's hand rose on the level of his face and formed in a shape of a bird's head. Anthony stared at it curiously.

“And how am I supposed to talk to it?” he asked aloud.

'Just like you talk with Ian,' the hand answered with Anthony's voice.

  


When Ian returned, he heard Anthony talking. That was at least strange since he has literally no one to talk with. Curious, Ian slightly opened the door, enough to see the mirror and Anthony, who was talking to his hand.

“And still, I can't understand how can anyone live in this place. Look at it! It looks like nobody lives here! It's too empty!”

'Yes, but, maybe, he likes minimalism or he doesn't feel the urge to decorate it...'

“Yes, I don't mind minimalism at all, but this is way too much!”

“Ahem,” Ian coughed to draw Anthony's attention. “When I told you to talk to the hand, I didn't think you were actually going to do that...”

“Ian!” Anthony exclaimed happily. “I'm so glad you're back! I literally had nothing to do here, so I had to talk with my hand just to entertain myself...”

“Well, you can go on, I can leave,” Ian shrugged.

“No!!! Please, don't leave me again, I will do everything you want, just don't leave me all alone again...” Anthony pleaded.

“Wow, you must be really bored then,” Ian chuckled. “But you have to promise me not to binge-watch anything as long as I'm here, okay?”

“Okay!!!”

“So...” Ian sat in front of the mirror and stretched his legs. “What were you talking about?”

“Uh... About your room...” Anthony scratched the back of his head and smiled shyly. “Maybe you will explain? How can you live in such an empty and boring room?”

“Well, I usually work here, and I got rid of any distractions, so nothing can disturb me.”

“Oh... So other rooms look better than this one?”

“Uh-huh. I wish I could show the rest of my apartment to you, but it's too difficult for me to move you around. If only...”

“What? Anthony asked uneasy, when Ian's expression changed.

“Listen, have you ever tried to move between mirrors?”

Anthony pondered, but he couldn't remember any time the other mirror he could move to was near.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Wanna try?” it seemed like Ian was super excited about this idea. “At least you'll see how do you look like, I bet you already forgot your own face.”

“True,” Anthony admitted and signed. “All right, let's do that.”

Ian grinned and went outside the room. 'I've literally just asked him not to leave me,' Anthony thought, annoyed, but his wait was over almost instantly. Ian showed up again, holding a mirror half the size of Anthony's mirror.

“This is the biggest one I have,” he tried to shrug which was a hard task for him. “But we can try, can't we?”

“Okay...”

Anthony looked in the mirror in front of him. For the first time in a few centuries he finally saw himself again. His expectations was right, the face he remembered was reflected, but something was different. It wasn't the age, his skin wasn't touched by cruel time which spoils the beauty of the young faces; there was something in his eyes. They were wiser than 25-year-old can have. The eyes of the old man framed with a pretty face of a young boy. Anthony shivered.

“Do I always look like that?”

“Yeah. Why? You don't like your face?” Ian chuckled. “As for me, it's great. You're keeping quite well for 400-year-old. Okay, so, let's try to move here, shall we?”

“Okay... What should I do?” Anthony asked, scratching his neck.

“No idea.”

“Hm. I guess, I need to improvise,” he smiled and went back for acceleration. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah!” Ian nodded.

“All right... Three, two, one, go!”

Anthony started. Everything took only a moment, so Ian didn't realise where was the point of time when Anthony smashed the glass with his forehead. Everything he noticed was him lying on the floor inside the glass and holding his head.

“I guess, I shouldn't have underestimated the power of collision,” he groaned. “Bloody hell... At least, I know I can feel pain...”

“I'm sorry for this not going well,” Ian mumbled sadly and put the mirror he was holding on his bed. “Does it hurt much?”

“As hell,” Anthony moaned and sat. “That's it, from this point of time, no experiments with getting out of these frames.”

“Don't you want to get out of the mirror?” Ian surprised.

“I do... I did, but I don't want to now. I'm used to this. Oh good Lord, my head is about to explode...”

Anthony slowly stood up and walked to the bed, trying hard not to collide with anything. Still, his foot managed to brush against a chair leg, so he almost tripped. Unfortunately for Ian, the only thing he could do was just watch and hope for the lack of further catastrophes.

“Maybe I should bring you a pill, a pain-killer?” he suggested, concerned. Anthony gave him a heavy look from under the eyebrows.

“I wouldn't be able to take it, you know.”

“Maybe there's something I can do?”

“Ian, thank you very much, but now I just want to lie down for some time and be quiet. No offence.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Ian nodded. “I'll be here if you need me.”

  


Anthony sat up and looked around. It was already twilight time, the room was gloomy, it looked like it was a black-and-white picture. Ian was lying beside him, he was holding a book right in front of his face, so Anthony didn't know if Ian was reading or sleeping. Judging by the quiet snores, Anthony decided that Ian had fallen asleep. He pondered whether he should wake Ian up or not; on the one hand, he was really bored, but on the other hand, he knew that Ian needed to sleep, unlike Anthony. Sighing, Anthony fell back on the pillows and started staring at the ceiling. A few moments later he heard a noise. Trying to detect its source, Anthony looked at Ian at the exact moment when the book he was holding fell right on his face. He woke up instantly, squeaking in terror, and smirked at himself.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked Anthony when he spotted him watching. His voice was hoarse and quiet.

“I don't know,” Anthony shrugged. “I haven't seen your face, so I can't tell.”

“Okay...” Ian nodded and stretched. “You know, your world is so strange to me...”

“Uh... Where's the link between your face and my world?” Anthony raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“There's not. I just... I thought about it, a lot, but I still can't get it. And I wanted to talk about that, but you were into binge-watching, so...”

“Well, okay, I can tell you what it's like to live inside the mirror... What do you want to know?”

“Hmm...” Ian pondered. “There are so many questions, I don't know where to start... Do you ever sleep, or eat, or something?”

“No, I don't need it,” Anthony smiled. “I don't feel hunger, tiredness or thirst. You see, here I can do almost anything, I just need to imagine that. I've already shown it to you with my hairstyle and outfit. If I want to feel cool, I imagine that it's cold in the room. Your bed is really soft for me, but this is only because I want it to be so. But the physical pain is real, as it turned out today...”

“And what about the things in my room? I mean, can you touch or move anything? Or, I don't know, open the door and go outside?”

“I can only move things when you aren't in the room. When you come back, everything becomes the precise reflection of your room, and even a feather is heavier than a whole mountain. Speaking of going out... I can see only the things that were reflected at some point. So if I open the door and go out, there will be nothing for me but the void. This is the thing I can't imagine. And the same thing with books and... how was that, the Internet, right? Unless the content is reflected, I can see only blank pages.”

“That sucks, to be honest,” Ian sighed.

“Yes, but I'm used to it,” Anthony shrugged. “I had four centuries for that.”

“That's awful... Oh, by the way, how do you feel the flow of time? Is it faster to you?”

“No, it flows just the same way as for you.”

“Damn. How are you sane after all this time then? Especially considering the fact that you had literally no one to talk with?” Ian horrified.

“I have no idea,” Anthony laughed. “I think I should be thankful to our Lord for that. And now I've got you, so I consider myself really lucky.”

Ian nodded and stared at the wall behind the mirror with empty look. Everything he just heard was unbelievable, even terrible. Strange feeling of emptiness mixed with a deep shock, his head felt like it was going to explode any minute from then.

“What happened?” Anthony asked concerned.

“I think that was too much for me,” Ian mumbled. “There are even more questions for me than answers, I can't deal with it... I think I should go back to sleep.”

“Yes. That's good idea. Have some rest, you clearly need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- *more disclaimers to be added*


	4. Chapter 4

The office where Ian was working was emptied. Ian looked around and when he saw no one, he stretched and opened the browser window. Even though he could do that when his colleagues were around, Ian felt freer when they left the office for lunch. At least, no one was standing behind his back, and he could do everything he wanted, even talking by Skype with Anthony. He appreciated that half an hour his co-workers gave him every day, and he tried to spend them as unproductive as he could.

But today wasn’t like that. He was determined to find a way to get Anthony out of the mirror. He decided not to tell his friend about his plans – Anthony was still recovering after a fail, when he tried to move to another mirror. There still was a bruise on his forehead, as a memory about that time, but Ian hadn’t even hinted about it. There was something funny in it, Ian didn’t know what exactly. If Anthony had found out about Ian’s plans, he would’ve been against it and started to bring arguments, like he was okay with being inside the mirror, and the world had changed anyway, so he didn’t want to get used to it again. However, Ian knew that that wasn’t true and somewhere deep down in his heart he desires to get rid of those frames. Moreover, that was about time to try. Unlike Anthony, Ian was getting older, and he couldn't imagine what would happen when Ian eventually die. Probably, if no one could ever see him, he would go mad.

Anthony had already went through lots of things to stay sane after the loss of his only friend. After a thought about the ability of Ian’s children to see Anthony, Ian realised that a) he was clearly over-thinking, b) it was high time to set the prisoner of the mirror free. He had absolutely no idea about how he was going to do that but he was sure that google would definitely know it. After all, google knows everything, and even if it doesn’t, it’s possible to paraphrase the request.

Twenty minutes later Ian realised that google isn’t that almighty. There were only links on some fiction stories and strange YouTube videos, and this wasn’t the thing Ian was looking for. When he became completely desperate, he entered ‘Psychics in Sacramento’ and began to search for the link which somewhat met his requirements. He was so into it that when a hand lay on his shoulder, he jumped and turned around. In front of him stood his co-worker Mari.

“Hey! I heard that Big Joe liked your report,” she smiled. “Congratulations!”

“Th-thank you,” Ian mumbled and smiled weakly.

“Why haven’t you been in the kitchen today? I’ve brought some cookies, by the way. Well, never mind, I brought a few special for you,” Mari laid a paper bag with home-made cookies on the Ian’s desk and glanced on the screen. “You’re interested in psychics? Really?”

“Well… Uh...” Ian quickly switched to the desktop, not managing to do it from the first time. “Well, just… Yes. I am… writing an article about frauds, you know...”

“Of course,” she laughed. :But if you really need one, I have one in my eye. A sister of my grandma’s aunt’s cousin’s grand-daughter.”

“What?” Ian shook his head, getting lost in alliances.

“Never mind,” Mari grinned and tapped his shoulder. “Here, I’ll give her name card. I often visit her, actually. So if you need something, come to her, she’ll help.”

“Okay… Thanks, Mari!” Ian bowed slightly.

“But, you know what? I’d visit her if I were you. Maybe she’ll help you with your shyness… It hurts to see you, lonely, staring in the screen while everyone else’s having fun.”

“I consider that. I… I just don’t like crowds, that’s it…”  
“But still. You’re a nice guy. Damn, you’re working here for 5 years, but nobody except me and, maybe, Matt knows you. And Big Joe, of course, but he knows everyone,” Mari chuckled. “I don’t wish you harm, can’t you see?”

“I know,” Ian smiled shyly. “But… I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

“I’ll check!” Mari shook her finger at him and left for her desk.

Ian looked at the name card Mari gave him. He didn’t want to visit her but he understood that it was necessary, at least, for Anthony. He glanced on the address printed on the name card.  It wasn’t so far from the place he lived, so, he could drop by after work without losing time.  The fear mastered him, he heard his heart pounding hard. Ian made two deep breaths and, even though it didn’t calm him down, he decided that he would deal with it today.

Sitting in a car in front of the house of the psychic, Ian realised that to vow to himself and to do it actually are two different things. Every neuron in his brain begged him to drive home. The only thing that prevented Ian from doing that was the thought about Anthony being trapped inside the mirror forever. He inhaled deeply, left the car and walked stiff-legged to the house. He mentioned to himself that the house wasn’t any different from other ones. He imagined it to be dark and scary with some spooky décor all over the house but the thing he actually saw completely contrasted with his thoughts – it was a little one story high house with an attic, of a nice, light-beige colour. On the windows hanged boxes with colourful flowers. Ian gasped, surprised, and went to the door, but when he was about to knock, fighting with the desire to leave, the door opened. There was a young girl in a red dress standing on a threshold. She was a brunette with straight long hair which framed her pale, as if made of porcelain, face; her brown eyes were highlighted with black eye-liner. ‘She looks like Snow White,’ Ian thought, ‘but Asian...”

“Come in, Ian, I promise I won’t bite you,” the girl twittered and invited him in with a welcoming gesture. “How long have you been sitting there, half an hour? You shouldn’t be afraid of me. And I’m not a Snow White, for the record.”

“How did-” Ian whispered, but the girl interrupted him.

“I know everything. Almost. I’m called a psychic for a reason,” she smirked. “I’m Olivia, by the way. A cup of tea?”

Ian nodded shyly. Olivia shook her head, looking at his reaction and put on water for tea.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t be able to live a normal life with such a fear. But as I can see, it’s not the reason what made you come to me. What happened with your friend? And please, take a seat.”

Ian sat at the table and looked around. A room was big but cosy, with light beige walls; all the furniture and a screen, which was separating a kitchen from the rest of the room, were made of dark wood, and all the textile was either beige or yellow. There were lots of bright and colourful flowers growing in flower pots on windowsills. Ian thought that it was the cosiest house he had ever visited. But before he had time to feel surprised, a teapot with a brewing tea and a cup appeared in front of him. He inhaled deeply and began.

“The thing is that I have a friend, Anthony… He’s unusual. I mean, at all. He’s…” he paused, confused. “Well, he’s trapped. In a mirror.”

“What?” Olivia’s voice sounded surprised. “A mirror?”

“Yeah. And I want to set him free. But… I don’t know how, so… Here I am, actually...”

“Okay, but it feels like you keep something back, right?” Olivia poured tea in Ian’s cup.

“Nobody can see and hear him except me.”

“That’s better. And harder...” she pondered. “It’d be nice to have a chat with him. When can you arrange it? And have your tea, it’ll be shame if it gets cold.”

Ian grabbed a cup, managing not to spill tea somehow, and sipped it, glancing at her.

“Well… I can do it right now,” he shrugged. “My house is a couple blocks away, so I can give you a ride...”

“Come on, relax, you can do it!” Olivia gave him a look from under her brows. “Okay, let’s do it but first, finish your tea.”

Twenty minutes later Olivia entered Ian’s bedroom with a determined walk; Ian followed her  stiffly. He stood beside a wall shyly and glanced at a mirror where he saw Anthony. He was looking at Olivia askance.

“Who the hell is she?” he asked, annoyed, nodding towards the psychic. She was examining a frame of the mirror. “If you’re going to have an intercourse, please be kind enough to do it in another room. I have no desire to watch this.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ian hissed. “She’s-”

“Are you talking with your friend?” Olivia interrupted him. Ian nodded slightly. “Hmm. I can’t see him.”

“No wonder,” Anthony snorted.

“And it seems like I can’t hear him either,” she continued, catching Ian’s reproachful look towards the mirror. “I guess, you’ll be a transmitter.”

“Okay...”

“Hi, Anthony!” Olivia said to the mirror. “ I’m Olivia. Your friend Ian came to me for help. He said that he wanted to set you free.”

“I’ve told you that I don’t want to try any more!!!” Anthony howled. “And why the hell you’re telling everyone about me and letting them here to have a look? Am I a bloody piece of art?!”

“He doesn’t like you,” Ian said softly.

“I’m talking to you!” Anthony shouted.

“Calm down. I want you to get out of here, your existence there is a torture for you. I want to end it. But I don’t know how so I use all the means I can,” Ian sighed.

“Wow,” Olivia smirked. “Anthony, sunny, don’t be jealous. Ian wants you to be happy, and me too, even though you don’t believe me. I came here to talk to you and see what can I do to set you free.”

“No one could, how can you be sure that you can,” Anthony growled, sat on the bed and crossed his arms.

“He doubts that you can do it,” Ian mumbled, “because nobody could.”

“That was because no one knew you existed. And I’m not a random person,” Olivia winked to the mirror. “So maybe I can succeed.”

“Okay, try then,” Anthony sighed.

“He doesn’t mind to try.”

“Good. So tell me your story, maybe there’s a clue in it.”

“Ian, I’ve already told you. If you miss something, I’ll tell.”

“Well,” Ian began. “He was trapped in the mirror when he was twenty five. He bought it on a market and the next morning he found himself in it.”

“Don’t forget about the witch!”

“Oh, yeah. He said that it seemed to him that the woman who’d sold him the mirror whispered something behind his back.”

“Wait!” Olivia raised her hand. “Give me some details.”

“Which details?” Anthony asked when he met puzzled Ian’s glance. “It was centuries ago. I doubt that she actually said something. Maybe I misheard; it’s always noisy at marketplaces.”

“He says that he doesn’t remember. It was four centuries from then...”

“Okay, how did the woman look like?”

“Hmm…” Anthony pondered. “She was in black and red clothes… Long, somewhat baggy… but her head was uncovered. And her hands too. I remember the sleeves to be of a few layers, the last of them fitted tightly to her arm, like a glove, ant it was fixed to a ring… It was on her middle or ring finger, I don’t remember. About her appearance… I wouldn’t say that she looked like a witch. She was too beautiful for that, however, she wasn’t beautiful at all. Dark rich hair… I remember that her nose drew my attention, it was somewhat hooked, with a big mole on the side.”

Ian told everything he heard. Olivia hummed and pursed her lips.

“It seems that we need to go deep,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s complicated, to be honest. But we’ll try to do something with it. But first I want to check the mirror. I have no idea how you’ll feel, so… Get prepared.”

Olivia closed her eyes and started waving her hands in front of the mirror. She seemed like she was gathering some threads from it and  twinning them together, pulling them from time to time. Her thin, long fingers with long nails painted the same colour as her dress were drawing some odd patterns in the air. This spectacle was somewhat freaky but fascinating. Ian looked from Olivia to Anthony, he just shrugged in response. It lasted for ten endless minutes, and finally, Olivia exhaled sharply and opened her eyes.

“We’re dealing with a strong curse,” she said to Ian. “But I couldn’t understand what was it… We need to break it, but it’s not enough to set Anthony free. And we need to find out why you and only you can see him. I’ll search it in my library but it might take really long. Even more, judging on Anthony’s description, that witch belonged to a very small but powerful clan which was destroyed to the last in eighteen century and there’s not so much information about it… But it’s not the reason to be sad! We’ll be victorious if we believe. When I find out any information, I’ll contact you. Say hello to Mari, tell her that I’m waiting for her this Sunday.”

“Okay. Thanks, Olivia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. Sorry, it took too long to write this. :D


End file.
